


Lunch in New York

by ami_ven



Category: Castle, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: writerverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Make a quick stop in New York, Carson said.  Just say ‘hi’ to my cousin Katie.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch in New York

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "duty" & "jeans"

“Make a quick stop in New York, Carson said,” Rodney mumbled, as he pressed an alcohol wipe to the scrape at John’s temple. “Just say ‘hi’ to my cousin Katie, Carson said.”

“He had no way of knowing this would happen,” John protested. He brought up a hand to his head, but Rodney slapped it away, though a little more gently than usual. “Just… bad luck.”

“Yeah, bad luck for the guys that picked today to rob a midtown diner,” said Castle, joining them at the back of the diner as cops continued to swirl around the front. “Where’d you learn that stick-fighting…”

He trailed off, waving both arms in a way that looked more like Torren at practice than Teyla.

“Athosian Bantos rods,” said John. “Causes awkward questions carrying a gun on Earth anymore, even if we are friends with a cop. But a couple of carved wooden sticks get missed by most security checks.”

“Sheppard, McKay,” said Kate Beckett. “I’m going to need both your statements. John, are you sure you’re okay?”

He smiled at her. “Yeah, it looks worse than it is.”

“Provided you don’t get an infection and _die_ ,” put in Rodney. “We’re on-planet for another three days, then we have to get back to Atlantis, no matter what the NYPD says.”

“I can work with that,” she said. “Esposito will take your statements, and drive you back to your hotel, okay?”

“Thanks,” said John.

Beckett nodded. “Castle, with me.”

The writer trailed after her, already peppering her with questions about the would-be-robber, and John leaned sideways against Rodney’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said. “What were you going to tell me later? Because later is now.”

When the three masked idiots had crashed into the diner where they’d been having a late lunch with Carson’s favorite cousin, John had grabbed Rodney and rolled them both under a nearby empty booth, then taken out one of them with his smaller bantos rods, while Beckett had winged another with her city-issue handgun. The third had gotten in a lucky hit, knocking John back and into the counter stools before Beckett had gotten him subdued. Rodney, helping him up, had gotten a strange look on his face, promising to explain ‘later’.

“I, well,” said Rodney. “I’ve seen you fight before. A lot, actually. And with your sticks, but… but I’ve never seen you do it in _blue jeans_.”

John laughed, and kissed him, briefly. “Never change, McKay.”

THE END


End file.
